Tales of a Forgotten Red Cloak
by Phantom Angel
Summary: What happens to Vash after the end of the series? How does it really end? Or is the ending we perceive only a beginning. A fic exploring the mind of Vash the Stampede, and his thoughts on the course of his life.


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Tales of a Forgotten Red Coat

The suns were shining above the desert planet, their dual light heating the grains of sand, up to the point where the air became like a silk curtain, wavering in the breeze. The air was dry of moisture, the mere inhalation of it causing your lungs to shrink in pain. The torrid suns reflected off the dunes, causing eyes to tear when they looked about the landscape. Sweat evaporated faster than it could form, causing every molecule of the human body to overheat to the point where it exploded. It was the hottest day of the year, a time when no living thing that valued his or her life ventured out of a somewhat air conditioned home. To go out into the vast desert meant suicide. 

The Fata Morgana mirage proudly exhibited her rocky peaks, seeming to almost connect them to the crisp blue of the sky. Only the tired whipping of a breeze seemed to disturb the desert in the moment of its outmost silence. It seemed to be following a trail of deep and very well pronounced boot prints, which went into the direction of the already risen sun. 

The crunching of the sand could be heard from miles away, and a flock of birds scattered off into the horizon as soon as he approached them. The fluttering of their wings disturbing the air, the artificial breeze brushing past his blond locks of hair. One more step, and another imprint formed in the hot sand, seeming to mold it in a never-changing shape, a shape of his boots. The breeze would destroy some of them, some would remain, and people would see them, until the storm came and erased them into oblivion. 

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No one ever searches oblivion...

Everything was forgotten there, since the beginning and the end merged beyond recognition, and time itself was distorted. For a mere moment he tuned back and looked at the long line of steps that ran across the dunes. The sand seemed to have turned to glass, and within each one of them, he recognized a face that had ceased to exist. Some smiled, some frowned, but they all yelled out at him, called for his attention. His ears filled with the sound of a million bickering voices, and he did not know which way to turn, whom to listen to. They all seemed to say the same thing, merging into a droning sea of chanting faces. All saying that one word.

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Death...

His insides were chilled, and his bones were shaking, despite the tremendous heat that rose around him. His hazy vision, blurred by the tears falling on his cheeks, seemed to see the breeze coming up behind him, like a great soothing force. He saw it erase his footsteps, and with it, the sea of voices seemed to disappear. Silence hammered itself in its place, and he could feel his ears ready to burst. 

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If only my memories could be erased in the same way...

But I can't go to oblivion...

The thoughts echoed clearly in this head, their amplification seeming to deafen him once again. The silence was broken, and it felt better like that. He looked into the distance, but they were gone; only the newly brushed dunes of glowing sand confronted him. 

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"Noodle-noggin'! Look here!"

The voice called him, and he gasped as the familiar timber settled into his memory. He looked down, a his last two prints, who had survived unharmed. He smiled, when he noticed the familiar face of his best friend. The same scruffy hair style and grin adorned his figure. 

"What are you doing here?"

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"What do you think I'm doing here? Get a move on! You're going to be sick."

"Why's that? I rather like it here." he answered, looking around him. It was so peaceful, so quiet. He loved it. It was a place where his heart could find rest.

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"Because they're waiting for you!"

"Who?" He asked innocently.

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"Dense as usual eh? Well, the two insurance girls, as well as the rest of the world! Now get out of here and stop mussing over the past. It can't be changed."

"But I don't want to live any more. I broke the only promise that made me... me." His voice was quietly scary. So dead, so lifeless.

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"You can't save everyone. It's about time you learned that. Plus, you weren't killing an innocent person. He deserved death."

"No! No he didn't! I couldn't have saved them all, if... if only I was faster, and more careful." His shoulders sagged. 

The figure sighed, and took a deep breath, getting ready to do some quality screaming. _"Are you saying you're sorry you saved Ms. Meryl and my Big Girl? Are you sayin' that Noodle-noggin'?"_

"Damnit, I'm not and you know it! How could I be sorry I saved them! They mean so much to me!" He was really angry now, and was prepared to stomp the naughty print into a meshed up shape from which the annoying voice could not recover. 

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"Then if you're not, stop torturing yourself over it, and get going. You've got responsibilities, you've got to go back!"

He sighed. "But would they want me back? After all I've done, after all the trouble I've caused?"

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"You're really stubborn you know! Of course they would want you back. It wasn't your fault for what Knives did."

"I'm his brother. I should have tried harder to stop him...If only I hadn't wasted so much time..."

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"Will you stop it with the "if only, if only"? You're starting to sound awfully repetitive. I didn't know you pitied yourself!"

"I am not pitying myself!" Couldn't the stupid man understand that he didn't want to go back, because sooner or later all the people around him died?

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"But the conflict is over. You won. Now it's time to go try to make a life for yourself."

"You know, you're not the one to give me lessons Mr. Wandering Priest."

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"I'm only trying to help. You need to go back to her y'know. She'd never forgive you for it."

"You're probably right. She'd come all the way here and hit me for it too." He smiled a brief memory of her smiling face crossing his memory.

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"And you need to take care of your brother too."

He looked down, at the unconscious man that he cradled in his arms. 

"Yeah, must teach this troublemaker what living is all about."

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"How can you never go back? How can you do that without getting close to people? Don't you see that staying here, only weakens your body and doesn't accomplish anything?"

"You're right dead guy! I'm going to go now. Thanks."

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"Anytime noodle-noggin."

The figure of the priest vanished, and he was left staring in his two empty footprints. He cleared his head, and turned around. Wearing a black suit on this sort of day had truly been a mistake, but it made no difference to him. He knew he had to get to the nearest town, and take care of his brother's wounds. 

Despite all their differences over the years, their maternal bond was still strong. Through time, everything had changed, even the two of them, but the sense of having someone else that was there as your other half. He was still his brother, and even though he had gone wrong, he was determined to set him on the right path. They could only help the last remnants of humanity if they worked together.

He smiled, thinking of how angry Knives would be when he will wake up amongst the humans he hates. He would have a fun time teaching his brother the joys of life. But... what about him? Could they live safely considering he was the most wanted man on the planet?

He was a legendary gunman, feared by everyone, with an evacuation notice given out when he approached an urban area. Most hated him, lots wanted to kill him, and then there were the rare few that decided to get to know him better. With so much of the world hating him, how could he protect those he cared about?

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The Legend must die.

Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhooon needed to disappear once and forever, never to return again. The legend must stay just that. Nothing but a legend, so that he, the man must set free and live a life of anonymity.

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Along with those I care about. 

Protecting them was his utmost priority. He might not have been able to save Legato, but Vash now understood something else. No one else had the right to take the life of a human being, but you also couldn't save everyone. When it came to choosing between the innocent, and the guilty, one had to always protect the innocent. And thus, the rule by which he had lived for more than a century changed, and became more complex. His conscience was sitll stabbing at him, and Vash knew that he would never forget Legato's face, for as long as he kept living. 

Whenever he would close his eyes, the gunman would see the maniacal face covered by the blue hair, and the mad smile that stretched his face. 

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Legato Bluesummers...

Hate found no roots in Vash's heart, as he thought of how much Legato took from him. He had hurt so many innocents, he had made him wipe out entire cities, and in the end Vash had no choice but to kill him. Did he deserve to die? The question haunted Vash even now, as he was walking through the desert with his brother. 

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Maybe

He had spent long hours of his walk thinking about each side. Yes, or No, but in the end he found that he could pick neither. If he were to pick Yes, that would put him in conflict with his rule. It would overthrow everything he believed in, thus tipping the careful balance of his inner self, the thing which at the moment prompted him to instigate his brother's "rehabilitation." If he were to pick No, he would be faced with the disastrous consequences of this action. Could he bare seeing both Meryl and Millie killed? He shuddered, in sheer repulsion of the ghory picture that appeared in front of his eyes. What about the other people that were not involved in any of this, but that would surely find death by Legato's hands? Could he involve them too?

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No, I have no right

This he knew as true, but in acknowledging this, he thus validated the positive course of action, which contradicted with himself. Thus his dilemma, and the need to modify himself, for the good of all the others. 

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I still had no right

However, the decision had been made, and as Wolfwood had told him, it was time to stop thinking "what if" and accept what happened. It was time to focus on the future. He wanted to tie all the loose ends, and finally make something of the 100 years of wandering.

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I will help you, brother

For the first time, Vash noticed the heat around him, and he felt his legs tired, and his arms sore. He looked up at the suns, but averted his gaze quickly. 

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I can't believe this is taking so long. I wish I had some doughnuts. 

But he kept on walking, the sun beating down on him. Sooner or later, a city would be in sight. 

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The ticket to the future is blank. I must give Knives the same chance...

Smiling, he took another step, thinking that the faster he walked, the sooner he would see them again, the sooner he would see her again. The moment of fatigue was forgotten, along with the cape he had discarded, as a symbol of his independence. Vash the Stampede was gone. Only Vash remained to take his place amongst the people. 

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Good bye Rem, thank you.

OOC: Thank you for reading. It's my first pathetic attempt at a Trigun fic. Not much of a plot, I just love Vash and Wolfwood! ***sighs* **I can add another chapter, tell me if you want me to. 


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